Teach Me
by AmeliaJMae
Summary: Bella is well practiced at hiding her feelings, but when a new english teacher begins at Forks High can he give her the hope she so desperately needs? Or will the red flag of professionalism prevent him from discovering her pain? AU, Bella/Edward,M
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

BPOV

First day of school. They were the bane of my life, always so bitty and pointless. I had lived in a huge city and routine was the only thing we all shared in common, and yet every year we had this introduction and slow ease into our mundane schedule as if going to school was a frightening and new experience.

Things would always stay the same, they generally did. Maybe some relationships hadn't lasted the summer and the unease was tangible in the air. Maybe someone had lost weight, gained weight, dyed their hair or travelled to a distant, exotic land and now proudly showed their caramel tan to a gaggle of barely concealed jealousy. But one thing was always certain; all of these trivial events would be of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Each day would blur easily into the next and news of who was dating who, though it provided temporary distraction, was of little practical significance.

I looked back on summer with disgust. But maybe I was limiting myself by just considering summer. Regret was my word of choice to describe pretty much every wakeful second of the past few years of my life. Not to sound melancholy, you understand. It was just a fact. Life moves on even when you think it can't. And in the end, nothing really mattered.

My mother, unobservant and hasty as always, had shipped me off to live with my absent father. Renée had always had gone through life with blinkers on. She saw what she wanted to and God forbid should anything mar the perfection of the life she had planned for herself, myself included. It was never really an issue I ever noticed in her until it was too late. She was very childlike in her approach to the world, which made her great fun when everything was easy. It did, on the other hand, make her unforgivably useless as the leftover half of my parental unit.

Charlie, my father, was an enigma. Mysterious to me and an ever forbidden topic of discussion in our little family. Certain things were never spoken aloud in our house. These topics included: my father, money problems, school problems, boy problems, any problems or negative thoughts, feelings or observations of any kind. Renee probably maintained these rules as a kind of self preservation, to try and keep bad things out of sight and out of mind. It served instead as an invite to all things evil, which sought out my mother and I as an easy target.

But back to my first day... I looked in my wardrobe and tried to decide what to wear. It was scant to say the least, most of my clothes being back in Phoenix with Renee. I was never going back there so I just had to face it that all I owned to my name was a few shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. My choice was made for me. I looked into the mirror and sighed. I could try and attack the dreadlocks beginning to form at the nape of my neck, but the pain seemed hardly worth it. My long brown hair generally concealed the mess it contained in it's depths. Well it wasn't going to get any better than this.

I was excited, but only in the sense that without school, and without company at whatever distance, and without much drive for life I was living only to breathe. I hoped school would give me the routine I had come accustomed to in Phoenix, where at least I didn't have too much time to think to myself. That just about killed me and I could hardly believe that people could live with themselves for over 80 years. I was 17 and I was pretty sick of myself already.

I drifted through the kitchen, my stomach far queasy to even contemplate any sort of nourishment. I walked towards the front door and picked up the keys to the truck that Charlie had so amazingly bestowed to me upon my arrival to Forks. I briefly smiled at it before climbing into the cab and inhaling the musky smell of antiquity and tobacco.

"Well, here goes", I sighed to myself before fiddling with the ancient radio until it stuttered to life.

The actual building was a rather unassuming campus. The grounds were scattered with small red brick buildings and I remembered my last school, reminiscent of a prison block. There was no way I was going to get through this. I could probably invite my entire graduating class to stay in my tiny bedroom and Charlie's house. Great.

I grabbed my bag from the seat next to me and walked towards one of the little buildings the proclaimed itself to be the front office. It looked like a shed. Like everything in Forks it was small, and cramped and inhabited by strange overly friend occupants. I found all the eye contact uncomfortable and rested my eyes on the floor.

"I'm Bella Swan. I.. uh. I'm new", I murmured distractedly, looking at all the various posters and leaflets that littered the walls, held up by brightly coloured pins.

A red headed woman introduced herself as Mrs. Cope and handed me a stack of intimidating looking paper. She rattled on about class schedules and maps and materials lists and endless things that I wouldn't remember and would probably lose before the end of the day. I smiled in thanks and left. Everything and everyone here was too close.

I stared down at my class schedule. Biology and Calculus and other things I couldn't care less about. Then I smiled. English was first. It was the one thing I could do without completely humiliating myself. I was no genius, obviously but it was something I enjoyed. I just loved to read and write. Like most things I am passionate about – they were great distractions.

I made my way to building four. Which was I was right in guessing was the building with the conspicuous 4 screwed to the wall. This place was going to be easy to navigate, at least, I smiled. I tried to pick out specific faces from the small mass of people moving towards the same door as me, but they all seemed pretty similar, all talking animatedly to eachother, no doubt gossiping about the new girl. In a town as small as this, I guess I was pretty big news.

I went into the classroom; it was as bland as every other school room I had ever been in. Beige was everywhere and messy attempts at posters lined the walls with laminated sheets of indeterminable age. I made my way to the back, where a few empty desks still lingered.

The chattering continued (as did many stares) for a full 5 minutes after the class was due to start. Then the door opened and everyone's head snapped to the front of the room. There were several audible gasps and the shock in the room would have been evident even to the most unobservant of onlookers, hence why I looked up.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Mr. Cullen".


	2. Chapter 2

EPOV

New school, new start. Outwardly I looked composed and ready for anything. Last night a million and one worries were rushing through my mind, amplifying my insomnia and wreaking havoc on the desk I was nervously drumming my fingers against. Out of these millions of worries an insignificant one decided to rear it's ugly head. Tie or no tie? I nearly slapped myself in the head. Nobody cared whether I wore a tie or not... I decided I was in the anti-tie brigade. They felt too much like a noose.

When I procured my job at Forks High School I realised that life would be a lot easier than it was in Seattle. Big city schools were intimidating and constantly trying to maintain an air of authority. I had to dress formally and act accordingly. It was an ongoing struggle to keep a firm hierarchy where students and teachers were on clearly different levels. Out in the little towns everybody knew everyone and you didn't have to act like such an education Nazi.

But I was nervous. I got work as an English teacher in Seattle straight out of college and it had been demanding to say the least. I was barely older than the kids themselves so I always commanded less respect. I wasn't asking them to sit straight and recite verbs, all I asked for was to be listened to, but they always saw me as more of a peer than member of staff.

I was older now, and wiser. And though I was nervous, I knew that small town kids would be nothing compared to the Seattle rebelliousness I was now used to. I stuck that out for 5 years so what challenges could this possibly pose?

I chose a dusty green shirt and rolled my sleeves up to my elbows. My hair was its usual mess of copper birds nest and I sighed. No use trying to tame it, I'd only drag my hands through it anyway. Nervous habit.

I got into the school and found the staff room without any problems but the issues started once I got in there. A matronly woman bustled around me offering endless supplies of coffee, trying to convince me with promises of cookies which I had to politely decline three times before she let me escape to get to my first class.

My stomach was in knots. Would I be able to pass some of my passion for literature to at least some students this time? I walked in and suddenly felt like the new kid at school again. All the students were already seated, and upon my entry turned to look at me with shocked eyes.

I scanned the room quickly, only to linger at a pair of wide brown eyes that were staring fixedly back into my green ones.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Mr. Cullen" I introduced myself.

The room looked pretty bare. There were very few students in the room even though only three desks remained. There only seemed to be about a dozen people in the room. Well... I could manage that. No screaming, no heckling, no stress. I smiled widely, with meaning.

"Introductions!" I clapped my hands together and rubbed them, "I want your name, and seeing as this is English, a book that you have read recently and enjoyed." They looked nervous. "Okay I'll start. I'm Edward Cullen and I recently read The Stranger by Camus which I enjoyed".

The line carried on with many nervous "ums". The general consensus was most kids were either reading vampire fiction or Harry Potter. Then came the brown eyed girl I noticed earlier. She spoke so very quietly I hardly heard her at all, and I was vaguely interested though I wasn't quite sure why. I asked her to repeat herself.

"Oh okay... My name is Bella Swan. A book I read recently and enjoyed was The Letters of Abelard and Heloise". My eyebrows shot up in surprise. What was a 17 year old girl doing reading impassioned love notes from the 12th century?

Bemused, I carried on speaking to the class giving syllabus outlines and various other "first day" nonsense talks. But in the back of my mind remained the initial about Bella Swan, and her obvious differences to her classmates.

I dismissed the class early, first days being so bitty there was no point in starting scheduled lessons. Bella remained at the back of the classroom after the others had left. She kept picking up pieces of paper, shaking her head minutely and looking amongst the remaining pile of documents.

"Anything I can help with?" I asked, and she visibly jumped after being startled by my voice. She must have thought she was alone.

"No, thanks it's okay. It's my first day here so.. They give you so much crap to look at and none of it makes sense." She then gasped and blushed. "Sorry", her eyes were downcast and ashamed. All because she said crap? Was she for real?

"Don't be. That's PG compared to what I'm used to. Abelard and Heloise, huh? That's some intensive reading for a girl your age. How did you come across it?"

Her blush remained. "I saw it in a play and then bought the book..."

"Medieval literature and the theatre... How old did you say you were again?" I laughed.

She chuckled nervously but still looked ill at ease. "Well I should probably get to next period so..."

"Of course. Good luck for the rest of your first day" Obviously she'd want to get to her next period, not wait around talking to her old English teacher.

"You too, Sir" She smiled with downcast eyes at nothing in particular, before she lifted her bag onto her frail alabaster shoulder and walked out.

There were 3 things of which I was completely uncertain: first, why was I hanging on the every word of a 17 year old high school student? Second, why did she look like a rabbit caught in the headlights for the entirety of the lesson? And third, why was she calling me sir?


	3. Chapter 3

BPOV

My day just went downhill from there. English was okay, and I could feel the passion for his subject radiating from every one of Mr. Cullen's pores and that usually made it so much easier to respect what they had to say. The rest of the teachers here were crappy, and the trig teacher actually made me stand up and introduce myself. I thought I wanted the routine, but actually what I wanted was something to enjoy. I was sure English would be it, and now the rest just seemed 100% useless.

I don't make friends easily, so when a curly haired girl, an excitable puppy of a student, bounded towards me with an overly friendly smile I slinked away before she reached me. I was obviously going to dodge that bullet. I wasn't quite sure when I had decided being on my own was the way forward but I was going along with it. If you let people in, they let you down.

Last period was gym, and to my credit, I did actually consider going for like 2 minutes. Then I'd have to get undressed and have people staring at me for whole other reasons than just my being new. I made the executive decision to sit in my truck and listen to music on some obscure radio station that I'd found. It played my kind of music. Men with husky voices and guitars and probable beards, I was kind of a folk girl. Start as I mean to go on, I smiled.

I sat in the passenger seat, kicked my shoes off and rested my bare feet on the dashboard. Start as I mean to go on, I smiled. From the bottom of my jeans you could see my pale ankles encircled by the various anklets I had on. I loved them, the little bells I had on them sounded like coins jingling when I walked and it was comforting, like the sound of a rising and falling chest reminding you that you're alive.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of copper. Mr. Cullen, I was sure. He looked at the truck with a look of mild disgust while he made his way towards a silver Volvo. Figures. Then his eyes quickly darted to mine, and an unreadable expression crossed his features. Great... my first day and I'm already gonna be ratted out for skipping gym. He was starting to make his way over and my heart sank.

He motioned for me to open the door, which I did. Still in my previous position, feet on the dashboard. I wanted to try and convey confidence even if I didn't mean it.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere Bella...?" He asked. Confused, and so not the picture of fury I was expecting.

Lie, don't lie? Lie, don't lie?

"Yeah, gym", my mouth decided for me, before my brain had time to think it through.

"And you're not there because..?" He urged me to go on.

"Because it's serious ninth circle hell"

"Dante, too? Well, Bella you are a mystery." He winked at me. Winked?

"What, you aren't gonna report this?"

"No. I would have given my left arm to have a teacher not bust me for skipping gym when I was in high school", he grinned.

I laughed nervously, not sure whether he was lying or not. I also let my eyes look him up and down properly for the first time. He certainly didn't look like he skipped gym much, unless of course the body of a renaissance statue was something he had just naturally acquired. I doubted it.

I looked back up at him and his eyes were unbelievably concentrated. I blushed intensely from being caught looking at him.

"Well, I'll leave you to the raw awesome power of The Felice Brothers" he smiled, motioning towards my old stereo.

"You know The Felice Brothers?" I asked, totally shocked. He struck me as a chart music kind of guy.

"Sure. I saw them in Seattle a couple of weeks ago at the Tractor Tavern. You didn't go?"

"I didn't live here then but I totally would have" No way. Attractive, intelligent and into Bob Dylan-esque folk music. Way too good to be true.

"They were good. They even did Her Eyes Dart Around. You know the one?" I did but I didn't acknowledge him, I was too busy wondering why it was so easy to talk to him without cowering away in fear. Then I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of him softly singing, "O my love is light as a dove. Her skin is fair and dark is her hair. And her eyes dart 'round and fall on the ground... That's weird. It sounds like you." He smiled briefly and then as if considering his words he frowned deeply. I blushed. He made his excuses. And stalked away shaking his head minutely as he went, looking like he was berating himself for something. I was left confused and reeling.


	4. Chapter 4

BPOV

Well... that was weird. I dove through my bag searching for my ancient and battered mp3 player. I began endlessly scouring through the tracks to find what I was looking for. God, I needed an iPod. Or at least something with a screen so I could actually see what I was doing.

I finally recognised the speaking at the beginning of the track that still remained from when I downloaded it. It hadn't been released on any albums so some serious internet searching turned up with some bootlegged stuff from some random folk festival.

I loved the song. I knew all the words anyway so I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing. He looked really pissed at what he said... I listened on. He was only making reference to my dull brown hair, and sickly pallor. And, if he was especially observant, then maybe even the way my eyes tended to stray towards the ground rather than someone's face. The rest I understood was irrelevant. Maybe he thought he was leading me on, or being inappropriate. Maybe (probably) he wished he hadn't said anything at all. Still, I listened on and the knotting in my stomach increased tenfold.

"O my love is light as a dove

Her skin is fair and dark is her hair

And her eyes dart 'round and fall on the ground

And her lips move along to an old country song

What keeps me alive is the brown in your eyes

And the sweet distant drone of your voice on the phone

Could I hear, in death, your voice and your breath?

Could I hear them sounds in life underground?

O how likely she walks among the white stalks

And, crane in her neck, she steps 'round the deck

Could I bow in the sand to your lily white hand?

Can my head gently rest in your lily white breast?

O my love is light as a dove

Her skin is fair and dark is her hair

And her eyes dart 'round and fall on the ground

And her lips move along to an old country song"

It was complete unapologetic love. I wasn't stupid and reading anything into it. But the pain in my chest just wouldn't quit. I wished that I could believe the words were sincere coming from anybody who said them. But I knew love didn't exist, especially not for people like me.

I ripped the earphone bud from my ear and threw the ridiculous excuse for a music player in my bag. I started the truck and reveled in the roar of the engine, having a noise that didn't stir anything in me except relief at being able to leave.

At home I started making steak and potatoes. I wasn't an outlandish cook and Charlie wasn't an outlandish eater so I'd taken to cooking for him since I got here. I was used to it, and I enjoyed it. As soon as he walked in the door he began offloading his occupational baggage on the kitchen table. Jacket, gun belt, keys and what not.

"So how was your day Bella?", he asked tentatively. Neither of us were what you would call verbose. Small talk wasn't my strong point and it was obvious that was a trait I had inherited from him.

"It was fine, thanks. Lots of homework", okay so that was a lie. But there was no way I was sitting and watching baseball with him all night. And I needed some excuse.

"Sure, sure. That nearly ready?" He motioned with his hand to the potatoes.

I nodded.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and I excused myself upstairs to get on with my nonexistent homework. I hated the evenings. It was the twilight years of my day. All the things you were expected to do you achieved earlier, and now you're just left waiting to go to "sleep".

I lay down on my bed. I contemplated reading, but every book I had with me I had read at least three times. So instead I just curled up into the foetal position, and made up my own favourite story. This was one of my many distractions. I lived out my life in my mind, making sure all my dreams came true and that I was happy. It was just indulging in make believe for a while to help the time pass, the way children become engrossed in fairytales.

I would never have met Tyler and Renee would never have met Phil. I'd be smart and powerful and I wouldn't be scared. Every evening after work I'd get home and cook dinner for my beautiful, smart husband. We would sit at our table and our big, bounding Newfoundland would lie at our feet hoping for scraps of food with a big goofy grin on his drooling mouth. My husband would gaze lovingly at me and I would feel cherished as he asked me the simplest questions about my day and he would listen to me interested. I wasn't looking for riches or beauty or genius I just wanted to be loved. I scoffed at myself.

Then my eyes shot open. Normally, my "husband" was just a generically good looking, average male. And now... Well. It was hard to forget who was the owner of those piercing green eyes, and that brilliant disarray of copper strands.

The same pressure in my chest, which had softened to a dull ache, returned in full force. It felt like my diaphragm was going to collapse under the weight of my heart. Why was my heart being affected by thoughts of my English teacher? Because even if a beautiful, intelligent man would look twice at his student, he sure as hell wouldn't pick me. I couldn't speak without blushing like a damn idiot. My mouth runs off by itself and before I can rein it back in again i've said something stupid. I was just an awkward little girl, with a shity past and all the promise of a tainted and devastatingly empty future.

I was embarrassing myself by even thinking about it. Honestly, he speaks to me once and I'm hooked, like an idiot. Men didn't love me in Phoenix, and men won't love me just because I'm in Forks. I'm still just little Bella, fly on the wall, fly in the ointment, blending in with the wallpaper or drawing attention for all the wrong reasons. Blushing, stammering, broken little doll just used to play with and forgotten.

And yet, I still couldn't stop my mind from conjuring up the images of a strong jawed English teacher, with his hard eyes and soft smile. I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow, after his obvious discomfort at the last time we spoke. I drifted into a fitful sleep. That was the first night I dreamed of Mr. Cullen.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

EPOV

So the first day was over and done with, and as I phoned my brother Emmett I found there really was very little to report. No detentions, no heckling students, no death threats. It really was very mediocre and I found myself grinning at the thought. Of course, what I couldn't report to my crude minded brother was the introduction to a very interesting young woman who read medieval literature and liked folk music and blushed her little pale cheeks from diamond to ruby in seconds. The last thing I needed to be told was how much like me she seemed to be, and how much I should pursue her, or other words to that effect. Which I knew, for a fact, would be the first thing Emmett would suggest. The fact that she is my student would not deter Emmett in the slightest. In all actuality it would probably spur him on.

"So baby bro, any cute tail wondering around this place?" He asked quickly after I had finished describing my day.

I sighed, and chuckled. I knew it was coming. "You know, Em, all the kids at this place are underage. You really are getting to be sex pest"

"Actually Eddie, I think you'll find that you have two whole grade's worth of hotties to choose from. Age of consent in Washington is 16".

"We come from the same womb, how is it even possible that your moral compass is missing. Mine seems to work perfectly fine. Now shut up about my students and tell me how things are going with Rosalie."

Sadly, though somewhat characteristically he couldn't muster the same amount of energy talking about his wife as he could the young girls at my school. Not to say that he didn't love his wife immeasurably, but Rosalie was a difficult woman to like sometimes. She had just recently informed Emmett that she wanted to move house. Again. They had only been living in their current apartment for four months. The woman was known widely for her fickle moods. And Emmett, as is his way, indulged her because he loved her so.

Being surrounded in a family of perfect couples often took it's toll on me. I felt like the token black sheep. My elder brother had found love, and my baby sister had found what could only be described as a soulmate. I couldn't find myself out of a paper bag so I was shit outta luck.

I had always been the same, my head generally bowed down engrossed in a book instead of "chick hunting" as Emmett so fondly called it. And men like me were a breed nearly driven to extinction by shows like Jersey something or other. Nobody seemed to appreciate a good old fashioned romantic anymore. The last woman my mother had attempted to set me up with scoffed at me when I opened the car door for her, exclaiming that it wouldn't get me "laid".

I finished my conversation with Emmett, mostly on autopilot humming and grunting in response. My mind was wandering and I couldn't really concentrate on anything and I started maybe entertaining the idea that I was coming down with something before I laughed at myself.

There was no questioning why I was so out of sorts. I couldn't wait until tomorrow morning and that was why I was in such haste to end my conversation with Emmett. Because I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. To think of the reason why I was so anxious for tomorrow to come.

I sat with a bottle of beer in front of the TV and reflected. I wasn't so much obsessed with books as obsessed with people. People you walk past in the street don't have their inner monologue drifting through their minds to scan at will and empathise with, you see empty faces and they only leave you to guess at what tragedies and happiness their life has held. Which is why I found myself turning to books. They laid their souls bare for all to see, the emotion was raw and still vibrating with intensity as it came from writers' hand to readers' eyes.

I always had a natural inclination towards those who think and feel too much. Who experience things so intensely that you can scarcely begin to imagine what made them that way. That was why I was so inexplicably drawn to Bella Swan. In her eyes glistened the entirety of the human experience that I had only ever witnessed in printed pages. The pain in her eyes was starkly obvious. Her skittish nature, like a frightened deer being cornered by prey. Her big brown eyes told a story. One I was hoping to thoroughly unravel.

Before I had time to fully understand the moral decline I could find myself in, my decision was firm. I was to read Bella's story. I would figure her out and help heal the pain that was so obviously etched on her face.

I strolled into class the next morning, this time better prepared to face the quiet, ethereal brown haired student who was to face me. But.. I couldn't feel her presence. Then I panicked and scanned the room for her doe eyes. And I couldn't find them. They weren't there.


	6. Chapter 6

**EPOV**

I carried on with my lesson plan in a daze. I had been looking forward to seeing her so much I couldn't begin to describe the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I looked towards her vacant seat.

I sat down at my desk at the front of the room to ponder while the students completed a task I had set. I wasn't even sure what I had told them to do I was so out of sorts. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms and sighed. I was about to get caught up in an clusterfuck of epic proportions if I carried on mooning around after a child. A child, for God's sake. It was so unlike me to behave this way, _so impulsively._ Though I suppose it gave a good indication that Emmett was, in fact, my brother.

Just when the Bella shaped fog that had engulfed my senses began to lift, the classroom door flung open and knocked the wall adjacent to it as it swung on it's hinges. There stood the object of my emotional turmoil, absolutely soaking wet, with rain pouring off her, plastering her dark curls to her ethereal white skin, and dropping the book she had clutched towards her chest.

"What time do you call this?" I had meant to make it sound like a joke, of course. I was more worried about where she had been then annoyed at her lateness, but unfortunately my previous vexation at myself hadn't quite dissipated yet and had spilled out unintentionally toward her.

Her eyes, brimming with emotion glanced towards the pale green linoleum that covered the floor. Her entire complexion seemed to get impossibly paler. She shuffled to her seat, the remnants of rain still on her worn out shoes squeaked across the floor. She stumbled and fell into her seat, her eyes never once leaving the floor. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes threatening to adorn her face with little crystals of shame. I was such an asshole.

I tried to gather the attention of the class but being first thing in the morning, many of them were staring out of the window wishing they were still in bed. I looked among the bored faces, their eyes all cast in various directions. Many of the girls stared uncomfortably at me and I sighed. The one girl whose eyes I definitely wanted on me and nobody else was picking the label from her water bottle with intense concentration, avoiding anybody's scrutiny.

The bell rang unexpectedly forcing me out of my reverie. The hour had dragged, but the last 10 minutes seemed to have gone too fast. I raised my voice above the rustling and murmuring of students desperate to leave the room and rush towards their friend for meaningless chatter.

"Bella can I speak to you for a second?" I asked.

She looked nervous, her eyes flitting from me towards the door as if calculating whether she had time to escape or not. She probably thought I was angry after that outburst this morning, like the idiot I was. The class thinned out and soon it was only me and Bella left. She sat stoically at her desk, as if by moving she may anger me more.

I walked over to her to sit on the table of the desk that sat directly in front of hers and raised my arm to brush my unruly hair away from my eyes, but as I did so, she flinched backwards, the legs of her chair screeching at the sudden movement. My heart sank, and an insight cruel and stark appeared to me. She looked terrified and before I had the chance to catch up with what had happened she began stammering quickly.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wont be late again I promise. Please, I swear I'll come in early tomorrow or stay now and complete the work I missed.." Her eyes were crazed and she was beginning to get very distressed indeed.

"Woah, woah Bella calm down. I'm not angry at all!", she didn't look very convinced and looked at me warily. "No, seriously, I was just wondering what was up this morning.. why you were late. I don't mind I just wondered if there was anything wrong?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks", she said robotically.

"Then why were you so soaked? It wasn't even raining this morning." I countered.

"It was at 6:30..." She replied quietly.

"What were you doing out so early? I thought you students didn't normally crawl out of bed until absolutely necessary!" I joked. Not that she was like most normal students, of course.

"I had to get up that early to get here. My truck broke down and Charlie is never home."

"You had to get up that early? Forks isn't that big, is it?"

"I live on Mora Road. It's the middle of nowhere really. Out on the 110"

"_Jesus Bella_, you walked over 18km just to get here! Don't you have anyone else that can take you to school while your truck gets fixed?"

She bit her lip and my mind ran a hundred miles an hour. She looked so beautiful, even with her obvious discomfort at the admission she seemed to want to say but couldn't.

"I don't really.. I mean. I don't speak to anybody. I don't know anyone here" She said so quietly I had to concentrate to hear her.

Without consideration, and without hesitation I said, "Meet me in this room after you've finished for the day. I'll grab what I need then, and I'll drop you home."

Her eyes widened and her beautiful white skin turned the most delicate shade of pink I had ever seen. "But, Mr. Cullen.."

"No buts. Meet me here at 3. And Miss Swan, I don't like to be stood up" I winked as I left the room.

* * *

_Thank you to absolutely everyone who has read, favourited or reviewed this story. It means ever so much, I have never looked forward to notification emails so much in my life!_


	7. Chapter 7

**BPOV**

I had only just pulled into the drive way when the engine of the truck coughed and spluttered to a halt. I tried twisting the key into the ignition again but the noise sounded more like a feeble wheeze than the raucous roar that I had become accustomed to. Being a decidedly weak character, in feminist standards at least, I had not the slightest clue as to where to begin to fix the foolish machine. I also had no idea when or if Charlie would be home. I liked the house to myself, but I liked not having to walk miles in the rain to get anywhere even more. I sighed.

I walked inside the house, looked around and was so utterly bored with everything after a few short weeks of being here I wanted to cry. I could cook, but it seemed to be just me for dinner so there wasn't much point in cooking some elaborate fare. I had read every book I had with me at least three times. I had no friends to make plans with, I had no homework, I didn't watch TV and I wouldn't know how to turn on the set even if I did. All of these realities lead me to reminisce in one that I didn't particularly wish to face. My English teacher. I went to bed early, hoping mainly to be up in time in the morning to make the walk to school. But also perversely yearning for sweet dreams starring a certain square jawed man.

Morning came with no sense of renewal. I was bleary eyed and silly with sleep. I stumbled getting out of bed and wondered idly if I would be able to make the entire walk without undergoing a fit of clumsiness and falling over in the rain. I highly doubted it.

To say I was unathletic would have been an understatement of epic proportions. If I even made it out of the street without red cheeks and a chest tight from exertion it would be a miracle. Why did my truck have to break when Charlie was out of the house?

When I finally shuffled into school I was soaked to the bone. The jeans I had stupidly worn (though I had few other options in the wardrobe department) clung to my legs like a second skin and my knees were uncomfortable with the friction. I braced myself to walk into my English class. I had been taught for the majority of my adolescent life that being late would have dire consequences. I was nervous for all eyes to be on me to, one pair of eyes in particular.

Though I was expecting them, his harsh words stung and he looked at me with no little annoyance clouding his perfect face. I sat down and tried to remain inconspicuous for the remainder of the lesson.

When he strolled over to me at the end, I prepared myself for a punishment. His arm raised, and my eyes closed. Here it came... But nothing. Nothing happened. And the prickly heat of embarrassment flooded through me the way it does when you fall over in public. Shame heated my face and spread rapidly to each of my limbs. I was steeled for punishment, so was completely disarmed when I was met with only kindness and concern. So disarmed I didn't even argue when he offered me a lift home. Shocked didn't even cover the emotion that plagued me.

I floated through the rest of my day on a breeze, not taking anything in that I was being taught. I had butterflies in the pit of my stomach that were less romantic and just making me nauseated. What conversation would I possibly be able to keep with this magnificent, mature and intelligent man? As someone that studiously avoided awkward, it was probably better if I walked home.

The last bell rang with a pitch that was obviously mocking me, alerting me to my impending death by awkward silence. I trudged towards the English room with the resignation that by 4 o'clock this afternoon Mr. Cullen would think I was a completely incompetent at life. I wouldn't have minded quite so much but the close proximity with the man who had been making appearances in both my day dreams and night dreams was bound to make me a bumbling idiot.

I opened the door and he wasn't anywhere. My heart sank and I let out the breath I had only just realised that I was holding. He'd forgotten what he'd said to me. Probably forgotten that he'd spoken to me at all today. Maybe even forgotten he had a student called Bella Swan who walked miles in the pouring rain just to get to her English lesson on time. I was being irrational, I knew. But the emptiness ached.

I turned on my heel quickly to leave, but in true Bella fashion I collided with something hard, and warm. I felt my face flush as I recognised the grey knit jumper whose sleeves had been rolled up to reveal pale, sinewy forearms. I began to apologise.

"Oh, Sir! I'm so sorry I thought you'd..."

His voice was smooth, like the soft rustle of fabric as it hits a floor. "You thought what, Isabella?"

His eyes were intense as he spoke, boring into my own as he questioned me. His casual use of my full name didn't have me cringing as it usually did.

"I thought.. Maybe. You didn't recall what you said this morning. I was going to start walking..." I trailed off. Unsure of what else to say to fill the silence.

"Of course not", he replied quickly. He began searching around for his satchel as he fired his laptop on. "What's your zip code? I'll get directions so we don't end up in a tree because I forget my left and my right" he laughed, easing the intensity of his stare.

He quickly scanned the screen, shut the lid and slid the computer into his battered satchel along with the few stacks of paper that littered his desk.

"Let's get going, shall we?"

He ushered me towards a shiny silver car. I was clueless in most car matters, hence the reason I was being offered a lift in the first place, but this car was a volvo. It said so on the "male" symbol on the front. Men and their cars.

He walked towards my side of the car, and I wondered if it was a right hand drive, like they had in Britain. My face must have betrayed my confusion, because he chuckled as he opened the door for me to get in. I blushed, and thanked him as he gently closed the door behind me.

He got in, grinned widely at me and said with more meaning than I'm sure he intended, "Let's go then, hmm?"

* * *

_Thank you so much for your patience with this story, it has been difficult to get chapters out as I am writing from the hospital. The next chapter should be up very soon. Thank you again._


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